


Death of a Siren

by SherlockScones



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Pirate England (Hetalia), Sirens, mermaid america
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-06 02:05:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16379339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockScones/pseuds/SherlockScones
Summary: Captain Arthur Kirkland had seen many things as a pirate, but never before had he come face-to-face with one of the most terrifying monsters of the ocean – a siren.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author appreciates and values feedback of any kind, but if you are feeling in the mood, some criticism of the technical aspects of my writing would be greatly welcomed.

Everywhere he looked there was chaos. The deck of the wooden ship rolled and groaned with the rise and swell of the turbulent water below. The deep, dark sea churned angrily, whipped by blustery winds into a frenzy, as black storm clouds rolled overhead.

The Captain braced himself as the deck lurched violently. He and his crew were in the thick of a storm out at sea as their prized corvette, The Red Rose, was being severely tested by the powerful forces of nature.

“Lash those cannon!” His quartermaster bellowed beside him. He grabbed one of the sailors nearby, “you, get the deck secured.”

He saw the man run to the middle of the deck—no easy feat in a storm—to shout at a group of sailors who were struggling to reel in a loose sail, its roped end whipping fiercely in the wind. Another violent lurch caught a sailor unaware, allowing the sail to whip him overboard. His cry of surprise quickly swallowed by the wind before he was gone.

The quartermaster swore and went to help. “Get that sail in! Lest you want to lose the mainmast!”

Captain Arthur Kirkland grimaced. Storms were usually best avoided, but this one had come out of the blue. He’d never seen the like. One minute calm seas and the next they were fighting for their lives through ever towering waves. He knew the sea was a fickle mistress and had seen ships caught by a sudden squall, but the violence and intensity of this particular storm was almost supernatural, like god had singled them out for punishment.

The Red Rose groaned loudly. She would not last much longer under the strain. Soon this storm would force them all into the briny deep and his beloved ship would be lost.

He fingered the medallion which hung close to his chest and muttered a prayer. Gods, if he and his crew got out of this alive he swore he would pay back tenfold what he had stolen in his entire life.

That was when he heard it. A sound foreign to the crash of the waves and the screaming of the wind.

It was an odd yet alluring sound; odd in that it was quite clear amongst the chaotic sounds of the storm and alluring as a pleasant melody would be. It made him feel lighter, as if all the burdens of life had slipped from his shoulders. His grip relaxed on the rail in front as he responded to the sweet song.

The ship lurched violently and he lost his grip. He would have ended up overboard if not for strong hands which gripped him tightly.

“Captain!” his quartermaster yelled, now back at the helm, “are you injured?”

He shook his head to clear it, before pushing the man away. “What in the blazes was that?!” he exclaimed.

His quartermaster was a reliable man, who rarely faltered. So when he saw the pale and fearful expression on his face, he took careful note. “It’s a siren, sir,” he yelled.

He pointed towards the bow.

Arthur had seen many things as a pirate in his time at sea, but he could not believe his eyes when he spied what looked like a naked woman with a fish tail instead of legs resting on his deck. Much like the mermaids spoken about in sailor’s tall tales.

He recalled there were many stories about the creatures, but one thing was consistent in all of them; meeting one of them usually meant disaster and drowning.

The song drifted back to his ears, that odd music clearly cutting through the cacophony of the storm. His tilted his head, no, that wasn’t quite true. The music seemed to almost weave into it so that he wasn’t sure if heard the siren singing or the storm. Entranced, he listened intently trying to puzzle out the answer…

His quartermaster grabbed him roughly and shoved something in his ears. The pain was enough to bring him back to his senses.

He glared at the man.

The quartermaster pointed to his own ears and the wax stuffed inside and Arthur raised a hand to confirm that yes, he had done the same to his ears. His expression cleared in understanding; the plug would block out the siren’s song.

He nodded and leaning closely to his quartermaster, he briefly lifted the plug to say, “Get that sail in. I will attend to the beast.”

He made his way towards the bow. His crew on deck either shrinking away from the siren in fear or affected by its melody. The relaxed smiles on their faces a bizarre sight upon the backdrop of such peril.

He gritted his teeth. This was his crew and he’d be damned if a fish was going to control it.

“Are you afraid of some fish?” he bellowed as he grabbed the collar of the nearest sailor, “you should be more afraid of what I’ll do to ye if you don’t get that sail in!”

That did the trick, his booming voice had cut through the siren’s sway. His men scurried away as they turned their attention towards the ship and he towards the monster.

This turn of events seemed to attract the monster’s attention, closing its mouth to fix him in its gaze as he approached.

He kissed the medallion around his neck for luck and unsheathed his cutlass. Captain Arthur Kirkland, notorious pirate of the seas was determined not to go down without a fight.

He was close enough to see that the siren’s famed beauty only went so far. Its skin had a slightly shiny sheen to it with bedraggled long tawny hair.

The creatures mouth peeled wide open to show rows of sharp shark-like teeth before it pounced on him. He felt the sharp bite of pain and cried out in surprise. He instinctively delivered a punch to the monster, sending it sprawling backwards.

The siren righted itself quickly, it smiled as it opened a now bloody mouth to resume its melody once more. Now he was closer he thought he heard something within the song. The sound spoke to him of love and the comfort of a lover, the ecstasy of sex, the sadness of lost love and the tragedy of despair and death.

His thoughts suddenly felt sluggish. This was bad, but why? Why was hearing the sweet song bad? He tried to shake his head and felt a sharp pain. He jerked and a hand shot to his now bleeding ear. The wax plug had gone! Although one ear was still sealed—which helped to muffle the sound—he could still hear the song.

He faltered and his sword dropped slightly. The siren’s smile widened as it sang.

He kneeled down to face the siren, drawn towards it. A rubbery wet and webbed hand reached out to cup his face, bringing him closer. Towards those beautifully plump lips, that soft rosy stained skin, those deep black eyes.

He could smell the putrid stench of rotting corpses on its breath as claws sank into his cheek.

At the same moment, the ship shuddered and groaned loudly, the splintering sound of wood cutting through the song like a knife.

It was as if The Red Rose had screamed and it proved enough to momentarily break the spell.

He lunged and drove his cutlass deep within the creature’s chest. It shrieked in surprise, a high in-human sound which pierced his ears and made him recoil. It rolled from the deck and ended up over the side of the vessel. Arthur quickly regained his footing and sword in hand he slid towards the edge to see what had become of the creature.

The siren’s body had disappeared, but left behind was a large dark stain of blood which bloomed on the ocean’s swelling surface.

The storm immediately began to slow and what seemed like moments later had calmed before it was almost gone. As if it had never been there. The men below decks peered out in curiosity and the ones on deck slowed to a stop as they marvelled at the sudden change.

An exhausted Arthur grabbed a nearby rag which he used to wipe his blade clean of the creature’s blood. He noted his quartermaster watching him.

“What’s on your mind, Ned?”

“I do not like this, Captain.” Ned frowned, “mark my words, no good will come of killing this fae beast.”

He huffed. It wasn’t as if the siren had given him a choice. It was either them or it. But still, his quartermaster was never one to show fear.

And when he did, Arthur took note.


	2. Chapter 2

Black booted feet paced the small cabin, the stooped shoulders of the captain bearing an uneasy tension.

They had set ashore for repairs soon after the incident a few weeks ago. He grimaced, there was damage to the hull, which whilst repaired was by no means fixed and would need a serious overhaul at port. Which meant time and money. Any length of time spent at port was a risk to a pirate and no pirate liked to lose money.

He ran a hand over his face. He hoped to whatever god was listening that they didn’t encounter another siren. They had been out on the open sea for a few days now and so far they had seen nothing. Everything appeared calm. Too calm. It seemed almost too good to be true and a feeling in his gut told him it wouldn't last.

The confines of the cabin eventually proved to be too oppressive and so, unable to settle, he came out on deck to drink deeply of the open sea air. Ah, this was much better, he thought as some of his uneasiness left him. He loved the sea and his heart was glad to be full of it this morning, it helped to ease his mind.

He rolled his neck as muscle and bone clicked from the tension stored there, wincing as the motion pulled at the still healing wounds on his face. Sleep did not come easily to him of late, his injuries and makeshift cot—the old one had been severely damaged—making it difficult to settle. He rubbed his neck as he looked out onto the calm ocean.

Perhaps he was overthinking things, taking to heart his quartermaster’s misgivings about killing the monster. Nothing had happened and they were making good progress to port. These were favourable and welcome conditions.

He stared out at the horizon at the sinking sun and tried to relax.

Which is why he was taken aback when, seemingly out of nowhere, there came a loud splash followed immediately by panicked shouting.

He rushed over to railing and his eyes widened at the sight below him. By the gods, it was another one of the monsters. He had never encountered a siren before and now he had seen two within the space of a few weeks. He wondered if he were cursed.

This one was different though. It was larger, male and had a blue scaled tail.

It began to open its mouth and Captain Kirkland took immediate action. Leaping over the railing to the deck below, he yelled to distract the beast and quickly ordered his men to tackle the creature. However, the siren was surprisingly fast and strong and used its large tail to knock his men down. He leapt back as they were attacked.

It seemed rushing the beast would not work. Quick and cunning, Arthur looked for an alternative and spied the cargo hook nearby. A plan began to form. He grabbed a couple of men and ordered them to fetch a net and slacken the hook’s rope.

Now to distract the beast. Drawing his cutlass, he approached the siren.

Arthur locked eyes with it, muscle’s tensed and ready for a fight. But oddly it didn’t attack. For a moment light blue eyes held his.

It was interrupted by the drop of a large net. The hesitation of the creature had been enough for his men to capture the monster. The surprised beast growled and writhed as it tried to free itself from the woven rope that suddenly surrounded it.

The two men quickly gathered the net and the cargo hook was attached. “Haul away, lads!” he commanded.

The wriggling mass of scales and rope rose into the air, a squeak relayed by the surprised creature within at the sudden shift. Sharp claws desperately tried to snap the rope, but the bonds were thick and held.

He drew his pistol and trained it on the monster.

“Belay your struggling or I will shoot!” he barked. He heard the cock of other pistols as his men followed suit.

The creature stilled. So it could understand verbal commands. Interesting.

He approached cautiously, raising his sword and peered into the net. Dark eyes stared out at him from within.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” The creature began to squirm again.

He raised his pistol. “I said be still, beast.”

The creature calmed again. “Let me go,” the beast growled in English.

He raised his thick eyebrows in surprise, “so you can talk.” His eyes narrowed, “what are you doing aboard my ship?”

“When you kill a siren, another will take its place.” The creature replied almost as if it were quoting something learnt. A toothy grin stretched across its features showing its rows of sharp teeth, “you killed my mate.”

Ah, so that was it. Revenge.

“You’re the replacement?” Unimpressed, he snorted, “clearly you’re not very smart, boarding my ship in broad daylight and now,” he poked the beast with the tip of his blade, “you’re at my mercy.”

The creature growled and said again, “let go.”

The captain grinned, “I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands. Why should I let you go?”

“Hurt,” the siren replied pointing to its… well, they looked like gills. It seemed the fish like appearance went beyond just a scaly tail. It made sense the thing was a water breather too.

“Cap’n, what are we to do with it?” asked a worried voice to his left.

Judging by their previous encounter, he should just run it through and be done with it. It was risky to do anything else. One of the monsters was a misfortune, two of them surely was a curse.

Or was it?

The wheels turned within his mind. Arthur was a cruel, cunning and ruthless pirate, but above all, he was greedy. He eyed the inept creature as it struggled against the ropes. Now here was a rare opportunity. However, he was no fool. He knew very little about these creatures, but the destruction he had witnessed first-hand meant he would not throw all caution to the wind.

“I fancy such a creature would fetch a pretty penny on the black market. But first,” he levelled the pistol at the creature’s head, “if you so much as sing one note or I see one storm cloud on the horizon, I will end your life. Understood?”

The creature defiantly returned his stare. There was a pause and he saw a brief flicker of emotions flit across its features, as if an internal struggle were going on. Eventually it slowly nodded an assent.

Looking around he bellowed, “that goes for the lot of you as well! Kill it if it acts against the ship. Styles!”

“Aye, sir!”

He grinned at the siren. “Fetch some wood and rope. It looks like we have a new guest to accommodate.”


	3. Chapter 3

It had been difficult to accommodate the beast, although his carpenter was certainly up to the task. He and his men kept a careful watch over the creature, ready to kill it at the first sign of any move against the ship. However, the seas had remained calm and the wind fair.

Still, he would not relax his guard. Arthur had not forgotten the creature’s revenge and he fancied it was co-operative only because it was biding its time; waiting for the right moment when his guard slipped and it could attack.

The risk was there to himself, his crew and vessel but if they could reach shore with the beast, the endeavour would prove to be a very lucrative one.

And not just from gold. A feat such as this would surely add to his reputation. He imagined people would discuss in hushed whispers the pirate captain who had not only survived the alluring song of a mythical beast, but had then captured and subdued the very myth itself.

He smiled as he watched the swirling patterns below his ship as it cut through the waves. He may already have a notorious reputation in these waters—a decent price on his head a testament to that—but sailors were a very superstitious lot and this act would surely make anyone think twice before crossing The Red Rose.

A noisy commotion from amidships broke through his reverie and a thud of boots on wooden stairs alerted him to the bosun’s presence. Sighing under his breath, he turned.

“Cap’n,” the bosun greeted.

He acknowledged the man with a nod. “What is it?”

“Sir, the… creature, sir. It won’t eat.”

His brows knit at the mention of the beast. Whilst it was true the siren had not caused any storms or tempted any of the crew with its song, there was one thing he had not anticipated; the creature like to complain. Constantly.

At first it had protested its chains and then the hastily constructed tank which now housed it on the main deck; the water was too either too warm or too cold, the water wasn’t salty enough and burned its scaly skin, the tank was too small and so on. But this was a pirate ship, not a pleasure boat. Frustrated, he had told the creature to either put up or shut up, the latter comment accentuated with a drawn pistol. After that the protests had died down. Until now. It would seem the creature had found something new to complain about; the food.

He wondered what the problem was. “Why won’t it eat? What are you giving it? Is it demanding something else?” That was probably it, fussy beast. Perhaps his quartermaster had been right, the creature would prove nothing but trouble.

“No, sir. It refused to eat unless…” he hesitated and the captain could see the beast’s request had clearly flummoxed the man.

The corners of his mouth turned down in displeasure as he was kept waiting. “Unless what?” He prompted, a warning colouring his tone.

That seemed to shake the man from his daze, “Er, unless you feed him, sir.”

Definitely trouble.

Thus much to his great annoyance he found himself holding a bucket of stinking fish, which his crew had supplied him, approaching the tank which housed the siren.

Arthur once again marvelled at the work his carpenter. How he had built a window at the front using panes of glass made watertight using pitch. Really it was amazing what he had been able to do with so little in a short span of time.

The beast stirred and pressed its webbed hands against the glass window. Now the creature was contained within, he could get a better look at his catch. The siren looked human enough if one ignored the tail—a silvery blue sheen reflecting from its scales—its human half was almost handsome with unblemished tanned skin and defined muscles and recalled the sailor’s tales of the siren’s attractive beauty.

One that led men to their watery graves.

On closer inspection though, even this half wasn’t completely human. He could clearly see the clawed webbed hands and gills on its neck, remembered the sharp shark-like teeth in its mouth.

The siren raised its head in the small air gap between the water and the wooden cage which sat above to prevent its escape. His gaze drifted towards its face. Bright blue eyes like the sky, shaded by wheat-blonde hair, looked back.

The pirate on guard duty, John was his name, acknowledged him, “Captain.”

He nodded and turned back to the creature, who watched him with great interest.

 “Captain,” it repeated in that gravelly deep voice.

He ignored it and held up the bucket. “I do not enjoy being dragged from my duties to spoon feed you, so"—he held up his cocked pistol in the other hand as a warning—"are you going to behave?”

The siren nodded.

Arthur turned to John and gave him the pistol. “If he tries anything, you know what to do.” The pirate climbed to the top of the tank and Arthur followed. John called over a young lad to help him. As the captain waited for them to unbind the rigged prison, the beast looked up at him through the grate.

“It name?” It prompted.

Curious creature, he thought. Or perhaps cunning? Making sure it was him that came to feed it, so he was in easy reach of its claws. He hadn’t forgotten it wanted revenge on him for killing its mate.

But Captain Arthur Kirkland had outwitted entire fleets to steal the treasure of empires. One scaly beast was not going to outmatch him. He would turn this opportunity to his advantage and find out more about it and its fellow creatures.

“What is your name, monster?”

“Name?” The creature tilted its head in an odd fashion. “I do not have,” it stated.

The young lad, Peter, piped up. “Oh, the crew have been calling him Alfred, sir.”

Arthur clipped him around the ear, annoyed at the interruption, “never give your animals names, boy, it is a mistake to treat them as”—he looked pointedly at the siren—“human.”

“Al-fred,” the siren sounded out and then with a flick of its tail and a grin said, “I accept.”

Thus began his routine in feeding Alfred every morning and evening.


	4. Chapter 4

Unfortunately, the name ‘Alfred’ had persisted.

Arthur scowled whenever he heard it, but the crew continued to use it regularly when speaking about their latest ‘passenger’. It was a convenient term and seemed to calm his uneasy crew to refer to the monster by a human name. Over time he had accepted it, albeit begrudgingly.

He was not happy being at the creature’s beck and call, but he did so in order to keep the peace onboard. Besides, he reasoned, if he could show he was unafraid of the creature his crew would surely follow his example.

But there were times that he questioned that decision, where his patience was tested. Like today.

This morning the siren was impatient to be fed and had splashed Arthur as he surged to the top of the tank.

“Damn beast!” He cursed. “if you won’t behave, then feed yourself!” Arthur dumped the contents of his bucket over Alfred’s head.

The resultant look of surprise on the creature’s face made Arthur chortle. It was hard to view Alfred as such a deadly and dangerous creature when various kinds of fish, flopping on his head and shoulders, framed such an indignant look on his face.

The siren’s initial shock turned to annoyance as he frowned. The look was almost petulant.

Arthur snorted. “What a spoiled creature.”

“Is this your revenge?” He said mockingly, “making me wait on you on hand and foot?”

Alfred said nothing. He growled as he descended back into his tank. It was clear their feeding session was over.

Arthur signalled to the men to secure the hatch once more before leaving.

However, the amusing scene left a smirk on the captain’s lips. For the rest of the day he was in a lighter mood, raising eyebrows amongst a crew who were more familiar with seeing a scowl.

The smirk returned that evening when he was told Alfred refused to be fed.

\----------

The siren was very careful not to splash the captain after that, much to his internal amusement. He almost looked forward to these sessions with Alfred as he began to engage him in more conversation, trying to learn as much as possible about the beast.

When he had asked him about his home, Alfred had pointed out to sea. Confused, he had clarified using his ship as an example of his home, but had received an equally baffled look from the siren.

“Your home, small.” He supposed it was to a creature which roamed around the sea.

“Do you not go to sleep in the same place every night?” He probed.

Bright blue eyes scrutinised him for moment. “Home is with mate.”

He grunted in response, “well, your mate should have thought about that before boarding my ship.”

Alfred said nothing.

He supposed that meant the creature had no fixed abode but merely travelled with its mate, similar to a school of fish or dolphin. He learned enough to know these shipping routes were its hunting ground.

When he had asked if there were more like him. The creature had regarded him with a cocked head and eventually replied with a cryptic, “yes, no.” Which told him nothing.

Alfred’s grasp of English was poor at times and he wasn’t sure if he understood the answer or if even Alfred understood the question. Either that or the siren was being evasive. For though his grasp of language may be poor, the captain did not doubt there was an intelligence lurking behind those clear blue eyes.

But Arthur had not been the only curious one. It seemed Alfred had questions of his own.

He asked about the crew—for some reason he had taken an interest in the lion tattoo on his bosun's arm and the lively powder monkey, Peter—the ship and the clothes Arthur wore. He was fascinated with the captain's wine-red coat, a fine piece he had plucked from the back of a particularly wealthy merchant, and the long soft plume which rose from his tricorn hat.

Most of the questions were innocuous, but some he chose not to answer. Especially the ones about the pistol he wore.

And when he did answer them, the captain was always careful with the information he provided. If their positions had been reversed, he would certainly have been trying to learn as much as possible about his prison, guards and surroundings in order to facilitate a successful escape.

He had also learned the siren had something of a more mischievous side.

A few days ago, he had caught Alfred staring at him.

"Come on, out with it." he demanded when Alfred had finally surfaced at the top of the tank.

The siren frowned. 

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "What are you looking at?"

It seemed the siren did not know the words to relay his thoughts, so resorted to first pointing to above his eyes and then at the captain, before making a wide gesture with his hands.

The captain bristled. The pirate on guard duty, hid a smile beneath his hand.

Arthur wouldn't allow a beast to mock the familial trademark of the Kirklands. Especially not in front of his crew. He recalled Alfred's whining as he went without dinner that evening.

As frustrating, interesting and sometimes insulting as conversation was with Alfred, the novelty of the sessions had quickly worn away as feeding Alfred was a tedious task. Mainly because the siren insisted on being hand fed each fish.

He sat cross legged on the grate at the top of the tank, waiting for Alfred to finish. Absentmindedly he twirled his medallion, feeling the familiar bumps and etchings on its surface. Content to sit in silence.

Alfred it seems was fascinated by the dancing light which reflected off the gold surface. With a half-eaten fish in hand, the siren pointed to the necklace.

“I have seen before.”

That piqued his interest. “Oh?”

“In ships.”

Well that made sense. The monster sunk vessels, so it wouldn’t surprise him if he had also seen their contents.

“Some more, some less, but always there. What purpose?”

Arthur shook his head in amusement. Amazing, he had never spoken to anyone who did not desire the golden metal. But Alfred was hardly anyone. Of course, a fish wouldn’t understand the value of gold.

“Gold has many purposes. It is the one thing men can never have enough of.” He smiled wistfully as he remembered the time he had beheld his first treasure chest, torn from a raid on a merchant ship. He remembered the glimmer and cool feel of the metal as he ran his hands through the coin.

He had been a young lad then and had taken to piracy because of circumstance. For someone who had never had much, that small chest had awed him and when he spent his share at port he felt like a king. That love for the yellow metal had propelled him to be one of the most successful pirates in these waters.

He could feel Alfred’s intent gaze upon him. “You like gold?” he asked.

Arthur laughed, “what man wouldn’t?”

Alfred’s tail excitedly lashed at the water. “I can get many gold.”

He regarded the strange creature for a moment. His green eyes locking with light blue. Well there was an idea that had not occurred to him. If Alfred sunk ships, he would also know where their treasure lay in the deep. He knew these waters well, if this was Alfred’s hunting ground it would stand to reason that there would be a fair few Spanish treasure galleon lying destroyed at the ocean floor. Even just one of those would be enough for a pirate like him to retire on.

It was a tempting offer.

Still, as greedy as he was, the captain also enjoyed the thrill of stealing from wealthier men. Rather than just be handed the money like some insufferable lazy son of a noble, he would take it for himself. He earned his gold through his cunning.

He had also not forgotten what the creature wanted.

He smirked. “Nice try, creature, but I am not letting you out.”

He could have sworn Alfred looked disappointed. It surely didn’t think such a simple ruse would trick him?

“You’ll make more than enough gold when we get into port.”

\----------

Arthur fell comfortably into a routine. His days began with feeding Alfred and ended in the same way, whilst in between he would set their course and track progress through mapping their position.

By his calculations, they were making good headway. The winds had been fair and no other vessels had been sighted. They were already ahead by his reckoning and expected to reach port in less than a week.

It was good news. They could deposit the siren, make permanent repairs to the ship and spend their gains.

Then why did he feel a twinge of disappointment at the thought of offloading Alfred?

He rubbed his neck. Was he actually going to miss Alfred? He reasoned the feeling might have come from familiarity as he had gotten used to the siren's quirky behaviour and presence onboard over the last month.

He shrugged it off. Once he had sold the siren, he would have more than enough money to compensate for any feeling of loss. It might take some time to arrange the sale, but Arthur had many connections with traders at this particular port and he was confident he knew just the one to net him a good price for his unique prize.

Undoing his neckerchief, he wiped the sweat from his brow and neck. A crewman approached and handed him a bucket. He took it with a nod.

As he hefted the bucket, he frowned. The contents felt wrong and peering inside he realised there was very little fish.

The sailor explained that they had not been able to catch any in the last few days and had scraped together the food they had to hand.

Curiously—when he fed the contents to the siren—Alfred had seemed more interested in the salted beef than the fish. He could tell by the excited wave of Alfred’s tail in the water. He was getting better at reading the siren.

Arthur had been intrigued, “so you like beef?”

Alfred tilted his head in that odd fashion. A move he decided the siren made when attentive or grappling with a new concept.

“b-eef,” it repeated, obviously Alfred had never eaten it before. “Good. Fish good. Not best.”

He frowned, an unsettled feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. “Then what is ‘best’?”

Alfred looked up at him and flashed a predatory smile, one that fully displayed those shark-like teeth.

He wished he hadn’t asked.


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur was being watched. A faint prickle on his skin alerted him to the fact. He scratched at his neck, but didn’t bother to turn around as he knew who it was.

When he was out on deck, Alfred always watched him carefully, presumably waiting for his opportunity to strike. It had begun shortly after the siren had been imprisoned and had at first made him extremely uncomfortable. But now it had changed to an almost familiar feeling though still a constant reminder of the beast’s presence.

What did make him turn was the sound of a commotion; splashing, growling and the laughter from his crew. He turned and with quick purposeful strides made his way towards the source of the noise, the siren’s tank.

His face twisted with rage at what he saw, “belay that!” he barked.

The group looked up, somewhat startled to see him. He shoved them aside, his glare fixing on the large man atop the tank, pissing between the bars.

Harry was a new member of the crew. Arthur couldn’t deny he was a good topman, but he had also had a reputation as an arrogant and belligerent bully. A trouble maker for sure.

Whilst the others had the sense to cower from their enraged captain, Harry nonchalantly drew his trousers up and hopped off to land with a thud on the deck in front of him. A slight smirk on his face. He was a large man, well built and Arthur drew himself up to his full height to hold his stare.

Harry opened his mouth—

“Save it!” Arthur snapped.

“If I see ye so much as _look_  at Alfred, I will make sure yer swabbing the deck for the rest of your life.” Arthur snarled.

He turned to cast a baleful glare at the crew around him, who visibly shrank back, “that goes for the lot of you as well. No one damages the cargo!”

“Now.” He turned his full attention back to the object of his ire, “You will clean his tank.”

Harry made no move to follow his order.

Arthur felt his eye twitch and said in a dangerously low tone, “did I not make myself clear? I am ordering ye to clean his tank.”

Still no movement. Arthur drew his cutlass.

Harry’s eyes widened with surprise. That wiped the smirk from his face.

“Captain!” The quartermaster had appeared at his side holding his sword arm fast.

Ned turned towards the shocked sailor, “’arry, lad, do as you are told. Clean the tank and lets be done with it. There is no harm done to the cargo this time but,” his voice was firm, “if you are caught again you will be severely punished. Right, cap’n?”

Arthur slowly straightened before sheathing his gleaming sword.

“He’s trouble that one,” The quartermaster muttered as he turned to walk away with his captain, “not bright neither. But you needn’t worry, he will do as he is told.”

Arthur looked towards the tank and straight into the eyes of the siren. Alfred was watching him intently, but appeared to be unharmed.

He turned to his quartermaster, “make sure he does or he’ll answer to me.” He rumbled.

When they were far enough below deck and away from the crew. Ned came to a stop.

“Captain,” he paused, “Arthur, the men are fearful. And they act on that. They whisper below decks about the evil above, the time you spend with the monster, the way it stares at you with hungry eyes and wonder…”

He frowned slightly and paused. “Lately, you seem a bit… distracted, captain.”

He turned to regard Ned. This was a man he knew very well, he was an excellent quartermaster and someone he trusted with his life. For the long time they had sailed together he had never known the man to lose his head, even in the middle of raging storms. He always kept The Red Rose and its crew on an even keel and for that he respected the man.

“Lets have it. Speak your mind, Ned.”

“I think the siren may be affecting you.”

Arthur scoffed. “You think some fish has me in their thrall?”

Ned said nothing.

“I simply will not have damage to expensive cargo. It does not matter if it is reams of silk, tobacco, weapons or a siren. The goods will be delivered in good condition.”

Arthur sighed. “You and I both know what terrible destruction the creature is capable of. I have taken every precaution to ensure that does not happen.”

He put a hand on Ned's shoulder. “I know what lurks in the beast’s heart. It desires my end. But I’ll be damned to hell before I let it sink this ship, kill this crew and take my soul. Do you still think me possessed?”

For a moment they stood regarding one another. Ned studying him closely.

“No” Ned said at length. Arthur thought he saw a brief flicker of emotion cross those eyes. “I trust you.”

“Vessel to larboard!” a voice shouted from the mast. Conversation momentarily forgotten, both the quartermaster and captain quickly reappeared on deck.

Arthur drew his eyeglass and scanned the horizon. It wasn’t long before his eyes alighted on a mast bobbing in the distance. It was still a little too far for him to discern its nature and he hoped it was not a naval vessel. If it were, well, the crew may not have to worry about the siren for too much longer as they would all be swinging by the yardarm.

The Red Rose was a swift ship and was closing fast. It wasn’t long before he caught a better view of the vessel. It was smaller ship, a brig by his reckoning. A type of ship that was favoured by merchants for its balance between capacity for cargo and swiftness. The vessel rode low in the water, which was a good sign.

“I reckon a merchant vessel. A few days from port,” he spoke his thoughts to the quartermaster beside him. The man had his own eyeglass trained on the distant vessel.

The man hummed. “Aye, Captain. Sugar and tobacco most likely.”

She would make a pretty prize. There was sure to be resistance, but with a larger crew compliment of fighting men, the odds were in their favour. Blood began to pump faster through his veins as a grin began to spread across his face. Yes, the chance to plunder would be a welcome distraction for him and his crew.

“Lets pay them a visit.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Well, well, lads, what do we have here?” The captain crowed as he loomed over his captive. A loaded gun in hand and resting on his shoulder.

They had met with some surprising resistance when boarding the ship, much more than he had anticipated from a merchant vessel. Still, they had the superior numbers and eventually took it. Although he had lost five of his crew in the effort, much to his chagrin.

But oh, it had been more than worth it when his crew had captured and subdued the man before him.

It seems the merchant ship was a foreign vessel recently captured by the French navy. The spoils of war. As such it had been boarded by a small naval crew ordered to bring her to the nearest friendly port to be sold as a prize of war.

It was why they had been taken aback. He had not anticipated armed naval officers aboard a cargo vessel. Much less a familiar face amongst their number.

He knelt down to look the restrained man in the eye.

“Welcome aboard, First Lieutenant Francis Bonnefoy. It is my great honour to have you here.” He said mockingly.

The man spat, “Cur, thief!” Francis glared at him between strands of blonde hair which had fallen loose in the scuffle. “You…” He began to rise, but a swift elbow to the stomach soon sent him back onto his knees.

“I swear…” the man growled, but the threat was left empty.

“You will, what? Capture me? Bring the entire French navy to my broadside?” He snorted as he rose,  “I have your ship and crew. _You_ will do nothing except grovel at my feet!” With that he ground his boot into the man’s hand. Francis howled in pain.

“Never!” He gasped. “I will see you hanging from the yardarm where you belong!” Francis grinned, blood staining his teeth and lips, “or do you not remember your place at the end of the leash, _dog_?”

Arthur seethed and delivered a vicious kick to his side, eliciting a cry of pain before the first lieutenant crumpled.

He remembered all too well. This had been the man who captured and almost succeeded in swinging him from the gallows. He only narrowly escaped his fate through a well-timed raid from what remained of his crew and help from bribed prison guards.

Oh yes, he remembered Francis Bonnefoy, then merely a stuck up midshipman who had presented him eagerly to the judge for sentencing. The same Francis Bonnefoy who pissed in his water, savagely kicked him, left him for days without food for his amusement, and took his pleasure when he found out he preferred men. The same Francis Bonnefoy who took every opportunity to maim, torment and rob him of his dignity. He still bore the scars from that terrible time, both the visible ones on his skin and the ones in his mind.

He despised the man.

He had been unable to fight back then, but now fortune had smiled on him and delivered him a great prize; an opportunity for revenge.

Francis spat out blood before finally righting himself back into a kneeling position. His eyes widened as he noticed something behind the captain. He mouthed what Arthur thought to be, “ _mon dieu_.”

He had spotted Alfred. “What is that? A new pet?”

“More like my latest prisoner.” Then before he was interrupted—he wouldn’t allow Francis to distract him, not when he had waited so long for this day—he grabbed the lieutenant's hair and roughly pulled him to his feet.

“You should know, I don’t carry prisoners on my ship, frog,” he hissed low in his ear so only Francis heard, “not unless I can ransom them and alas in that you are next to worthless. But I promise you will still _pay_.” He had sworn it the day he had escaped. "I haven't forgotten what you did and it's time to settle old debts. Make it a good show, won't you?" He threw the frenchman back on the deck.

Francis looked up and held his gaze. A flicker of understanding showed within. His fate had been sealed the moment the captain laid eyes on him.

Arthur features hardened and he said loudly so all could hear, “now, tell me where the ship's gold is.”

Francis straightened his back and jutted out his chin.

Arthur brought his pistol to the spot between the man’s eyes. “Tell me, or I will blow your brains out,” he said calmly. But both of them knew Francis would never tell.

“You are particularly bloodthirsty today, _mon ami_ ” Francis commented, his eyes seemingly staring past Arthur, lips turned down in a frown.

Then the moment passed and those defiant eyes were once again focused on his own. ”It is a shame you did not display such fire when you were my... prisoner,” he smirked.

Arthur’s blood boiled.

“I will tell you nothing!" Francis spat, "go to hell, d-!”

The pistol shot rang out and blood splattered onto his coat and face as Francis slumped lifeless to the deck.

He lowered the smoking pistol, sweat glistening on his brow as his head pounded with a rush of blood.

He noticed out the corner of his eye the sudden excitement of the siren next to them, how it beat its tail and flashed its sharp teeth.

An idea came to him. A very cruel one, but a fitting fate for the bastard corpse which now lay at his feet.

“Throw his body to the beast,” he commanded his crew. They hesitated and Arthur rounded on them. “Did I not make myself clear?” He ground out. “Throw this stinking corpse to the monster!”

A few put a knuckle to their forehead and acknowledged with an ‘aye, cap’n’ as they moved to pick up the now dead man. Arthur turned towards the rest of the captured crew and eyed them.

“Now” —the noises behind him grew as presumably Alfred saw where the corpse was going—“I am going to offer you a choice; either join my crew, or”—a big splash and then the clear sound of crunching bones—“take your chances.”

Not a single man refused his offer.

As he walked back, he glanced at the siren’s tank. All he could see was red, the water soaked in blood.

\--------

He let his men celebrate that night, raiding the merchant ships stores to lay on a feast fit for a king. A treat for his crew and a welcome for the new crew members. He had happily filled his belly on beef and rum. Especially the rum as he tried to cleanse his mind of Francis. As the evening wore on, he even joined the crew in their boisterous singing, laughing heartily at the bawdy lyrics.

But he had found it increasingly suffocating below decks and had emerged with a bottle in hand. Well if he wasn’t going to sleep, he might as well keep on drinking. He took a deep breath, enjoying the cool night air and the sounds of the sea. He felt better up here, calmer.

He’d been leaning against the taffrail, staring out into the dark when he heard a splash behind him. It seemed he was not the only one who was awake. He sighed, so much for getting drunk alone.

“Captain.” An all too familiar deep voice called to him and when he gave no response, “Arthur.” It seemed he would get no peace tonight.

He grumbled under his breath before turning to approach the tank. If he ever found out who told Alfred his name, he would make sure he was on swab duty for the next month.

Wilkes—one of his best gunners—stood guard.

“Best get below before they drink all the alcohol,” he jerked his head towards aft. “Don’t worry I will watch the beast.”

Wilkes nodded his thanks and then disappeared below decks with a grin and gleeful rub of his hands.

He watched him go before sitting on a barrel, perching his arm on his raised knee whilst the other leg swung freely.

Dark, sparkling eyes regarded him as Alfred peered at him from above. The tips of clawed fingers gripped the wooden sides of his tank. A wide smile adorned his features.

“I thank you for my dinner.”

Arthur grunted. “Only a monster would enjoy killing.”

“You kill.”

He frowned. “That is different.”

“Why?”

That was a complicated question to answer. He bit into the cork of the bottle and spat it out. “I kill because it is necessary to defend myself,” he said simply. He took a drink from the bottle before turning the neck to point at him, “you kill to devour men.”

“How are we different?” The creature smiled, showing those unnerving rows of sharp teeth, “you handsome and thirsty for blood…”

“And so are you? Is that it?” He snorted.

Alfred grinned down at him, “you think I handsome?”

He might have imagined it, or maybe it was the booze, but he could swear he saw an amused twinkle in Alfred's eye. Arthur scowled.

Although he had to admit, as he looked at the merman’s softly lit features in the moonlight, he was rather handsome. That beautiful soft looking straw blonde hair, the smooth, slightly tanned skin with powerful muscles rippling underneath, the light blue eyes that sparkled like a clear tropical sea.

If he hadn’t had the tail of a fish and the claws and teeth to rend the flesh from his bones, he might have bed him. Arthur took a gulp of his drink.

“What that?” Alfred asked, pointing to the bottle he held in his hand.

“Rum.” He replied, noting Alfred’s attentive head tilt, “it’s a drink, with alcohol.”

“al-co-hol.” Clearly Alfred did not understand and that made him wonder.

“Have you ever tasted alcohol?” Alfred shook his head.

It might have been the warm pulse of alcohol through his veins or his curiosity when it came to Alfred, but he decided he would give him a taste. He shrugged, lets see if we can get a fish drunk.

Arthur stood and in one swift motion, practised after many feeding sessions, swung himself so he sat on top of the grate.

“Open your mouth, Alfred.” The merman swan close to the grate and obeyed.

Leaning down, Arthur poured some of the rum into the creature’s mouth and watched as Alfred first swallowed, then gagged and then disappeared under the water. Writhing with an open jaw as he obviously tried to dislodge a nasty taste in his mouth.

He laughed at the reaction. It reminded him of the first time he had tasted alcohol as a young boy. He had hated it. Alfred finally came back up after he had clearly got the taste out of its mouth.

“So, how do you like it, lad?” He asked, a smile still on his lips.

“Bad. It hurts.” He said pointing indignantly to its stomach, as if accusing Arthur of trying to poison him.

He chuckled. “True. But if you drink enough of it, you’ll find it makes you feel much better.” He took another swig of the bottle. He felt the merman’s eyes on him as he did so.

Something about the look he gave made him pause to actually look at the siren's face. He noticed the soft dark lashes that framed eyes whose dark depths reflected the warm burn of the lamplight. The pink and plump lips that curled upwards in a soft smile. He suddenly felt the urge to reach out and run his thumb over their softness, wanted to feel their warmth on his own.

Alfred smiled at him and Arthur smiled back.

His head swum and he felt a bit giddy as he leaned down, parting his lips, looking deeply into Alfred’s eyes…

He suddenly jolted. 

Arthur drew back and frowned. “Stop that,” he growled. There was a hunger in those huge dark pools.

Alfred merely tilted his head questioningly.

He huffed. “You know very well what I am talking about, monster.”

That had certainly sobered him. His face had been close to the grate, inches from the beast’s sharp teeth and claws. The creature had almost had the captain at his mercy and that worried him.

He called over the watchman to take over guard duty and quickly left for his cabin. He was suddenly weary of the games this monster played with him.

He reminded himself that it wouldn’t matter soon anyway. He would be in port within two days and Alfred would be gone and he would never have to lay eyes on him again. He flopped onto his bed and with a deep breath tried to settle and forget about the siren.

Except, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t.


	7. Chapter 7

The crew were lively today. On the morrow they would enter into port and they bustled about The Red Rose getting her ready for their arrival. An underlying tremor of excitement ran through the crew at the prospect of spending their share of stolen gold.

But all Captain Kirkland felt was agitation.

He scratched at the irritated skin on his neck as the sweat poured down his back. It was far too hot and dry out today and his neckerchief chaffed. But that was not the only reason he was feeling a little heat under the collar.

Since that drunken night, his sleep had been restless as he dreamed of the sea and Alfred.

He wiped his sweat soaked brow and hung his red coat on a nearby barrel. He looked forward to getting into port and visiting the local establishments for alcohol and sex. He needed a release from the frustrations which had built up over the last months and preferably a good amount of alcohol, enough to drown himself and forget his lust for something which was half man, half fish and all revenge.

But a part of him didn't want to ever reach port. Because then he would have to sell Alfred.

He had increasingly become aware of being drawn to the siren. At first it had been curiosity, but then he had come to enjoy his company. Alfred was different, he was innocent, he made him laugh and he was handsome. He couldn’t deny his attraction.

But were these truly his feelings? Or was this Alfred’s doing? He was not human, he had to remind himself, he was a monster who manipulated those unfortunate enough to cross his path into sinking their ships.

The thought that this attraction might be the result of Alfred’s manipulation terrified him. Because if that were true, it meant he was unable to tell the difference between what was real and what was not. He couldn’t trust his own thoughts and it left him confused and unsure.

Either way, Ned had been right, Alfred was affecting him.

He had refused to feed Alfred this morning, as the closer he was to him, the stronger the attraction. The previous evening, when he had fed him, his hand had momentarily brushed the siren’s lips stirring his desire. He was suddenly very aware of their proximity and the way the water droplets slid down Alfred’s chin and onto his soft neck, a path he wanted to follow with a brush of his fingers. Coming to his senses, he had pulled away, his cheeks burning.

He swallowed and looked down at his hands. White knuckles gripped the taffrail like a vice. He couldn’t let the crew see how the creature was affecting him. He cast his eye around those currently on deck, especially the ones nearest Alfred. None of them seemed affected by the siren, but then none of them were the reason for the death of the siren’s mate.

His gaze started to drift towards the tank…

He straightened. He needed a distraction and spied the nearby water barrel. Yes, a cool drink would help clear his mind.

He picked up the ladle and drank. The water was stale and needed to be replaced but in this heat any liquid was satisfying. He was gulping his second ladle-full when he choked.

In his haste he had accidentally inhaled the water and immediately bent over coughing to dislodge it. But it wasn’t working. He fell to the deck gasping. It felt like he couldn’t breathe.

A couple of crew nearby saw his distress and came to his aid.

With the crew distracted by the captain’s collapse, the siren finally chose to make its move. In one quick swift motion the siren had burst out of his tank—an explosion of wood and water knocking out the guard—rolled across the deck and tackled Arthur overboard into the ocean.

His quartermaster barely had time to shout a warning before he hit the cold water below.

Before he had processed what was happening, the siren had already dragged him down into the cold dark depths of the sea.

The beast clawed at his neck as Arthur desperately fought him, trying to get away. His time was running out and he needed to get to the surface before he drowned.

But he was in the creature’s natural element and it was proving almost impossible to shake him off.

With one last effort, he finally managed to push the siren off with a well-timed kick of his boot, his neckerchief ripping and falling away in the creatures grasp as he dislodged its hold around his neck.

This was his chance.

Desperately he put all his effort into swimming towards the surface, but it was too late. He was already weak and the need to breathe became too intense. His strokes slowed until they stilled as he finally gave in to the involuntary need to fill his lungs.

As he choked on the cold water, a final bitter thought filled his mind; the creature had finally got his revenge. The sea that he so loved would now become his grave.

He waited for the darkness to claim him.

Except that didn’t happen. That moment never came. In fact, he was still alive and breathing. His eyes shot open. _Breathing in the water!_ His hand immediately went to his neck where he felt a strange fluttering sensation as he drew breath.

For a moment he did nothing, he was dumbstruck. He was under the ocean, he should be dead!

The water stirred beside him and he immediately turned, instinctively preparing for a strike. He had forgotten about the creature whom moments ago he had fought.

But Alfred was not attacking him now. The siren just hung there, almost motionless in the water apart from the occasional flick of its silvery blue tail.

His eyes watching him carefully. The tilted head indicating attentiveness.

He was confused. He recalled the ease at which moments before the creature had escaped his tank to drag him into the sea. It was clear Alfred could have gotten out at any time, which meant he had never held the siren captive. Alfred had chosen to remain on the ship, but why?

There was a sinking feeling within his gut.

He recalled his first encounter with Alfred. _When you kill a siren, another will take its place._

The siren approached as the horrified pirate realised his fate.

Webbed hands tenderly cupped his cheeks as large dark eyes drank him in. A rubbery thumb brushed over his lower lip as Alfred tilted his head. Arthur’s heart beat faster, but he couldn’t move, he couldn’t make a sound, he was strangely paralysed. Alfred drew him closer and surprisingly warm lips covered his as a familiar feeling washed over him, one of desire on a moonlit night. He recognised it; the feeling which had been growing steadily since he had met Alfred, drawing Arthur to him, changing him. He let the desire take him and felt himself responding.

And he understood. All this time Alfred had been waiting. For him. For his new mate.


	8. EPILOGUE

The storm raged around them. The sounds of the howling wind mixing with the shouts of men and the groan of timber as it was pulled and twisted in ways it never should be. It was chaos, but a chaos he had seen before.

He recognised the sound of the beast before he even saw it. Tried to shout a warning to his crewmates before the thing led them to a watery grave. But it was no good, it had fallen on deaf ears—deaf to anything but the siren’s song—so he had done the one thing he could and made his own ears deaf to it all.

As he made his way toward the bow he watched helplessly as some of his crew—driven mad by the sound of the creature—threw themselves from the vessel into the churning waters below.

Grimacing, he forged ahead, gripping tightly to keep his balance as the deck pitched and rolled beneath his feet. Eventually he found what he sought.

There it sat on the deck, a long scaled tail curled around it, perfectly calm amid the chaos. Its mouth open as he knew, but could not hear, in song.

As he fought his way to the mast, the creature noticed and stopped its song to regard him. His heart sank in his chest. No, it couldn't be...

A ghost was before him. The familiar face of a man that should have been dead.

He almost wailed like the wind whipping around him as he saw what had become of his beloved captain. In his grief, he stumbled forwards and collapsed on his knees.

Shaking, he tentatively reached out a hand to the man’s face, confirming he wasn’t some apparition.

But even if it was his captain, he was certainly not a man anymore. The human appearance ended at the torso where skin gave way to scales and fins. A fish's tail curled around the creature and even in the darkness of the storm he could see the faint glimmer of gold on emerald scales, glinting like a pile of treasure.

He saw the familiar medallion that hung from his neck and felt a faint glimmer of hope. He wondered if his old captain might still be in there, somewhere.

“Captain… Arthur, please! Stop this,” he begged.

“Remember me, I was your quartermaster! We sailed together, fought together, for years… We were like brothers,” he felt tears streaming down his face, “please remember me, please…”

There was a flicker of recognition in those dark eyes, but it was all too brief.

The creature which used to Arthur Kirkland tilted his head before revealing his sharp teeth.

\---------

The human lay dead on the deck. His throat ripped out, warm blood pooling quickly. The delicious taste of blood lingered on his tongue.

He remembered, no it was more like felt, he was something different… before. Sometimes he would feel drawn to something and knew not why, a memory trying to surface, but never doing so. Like he was to this particular human. Something about him seemed familiar.

He had called him captain. He remembered a captain. He sang of him in his songs.

He was a pirate, ruthless and bloodthirsty, hungry for gold. Oh, how he loved the freedom of the sea. Revelled in the pursuit and plundering of his prey. The death of his enemies. Oh, how he lusted after gold and jewels. Until the day he had taken from the sea, so the sea took him.

His tail slapped the deck in delight.

He liked the captain.

So he opened his mouth to sing of him again. The storm grew frenzied around him as the loud snapping of wood heralded the end for the ship. The siren sat in the middle of it all and revelled in the chaos.

He and his mate would feed well tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my fic! As said at the beginning - any and all feedback is much appreciated. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask.
> 
> Also I do have some extra content on Art's transformation - a chapter which got cut as it was not necessary for the main story. I will post this at the end as a bonus.


	9. BONUS CONTENT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What follows below is a chapter which got cut as it was not necessary for the main story. It begins after Chapter 7, where Arthur has entered the sea with Alfred, and describes his change into a siren. As it was incomplete, there is a section missing, but I have tried to indicate what would have been written there with notes in [ ].

Alfred led him deeper into the dark waters.

It was not like he had much of a choice, there was no way he could return to his ship.

As he looked back and saw the distant retreating shape of his beloved Red Rose, he realised with some sadness that he would never return to his old life. The sea he so loved to sail on, now cursed him to forever remain within its depths. In some way this was a fate worse than the drowning he had feared moments ago.

He couldn’t even ask Alfred where they were going, for he could no longer speak. When he opened his mouth there was no sound at all. He bitterly assumed it was something to do with the new gills on his neck.

They finally approached a sunken ship and Alfred eagerly dragged him towards it. By the looks of the vessel it had been a sizeable one with a very grand forecastle. A frigate perhaps, he thought blandly. Its deck had been violently split and the masts lost. He was careful not to touch any of the sharp splintered wood as they passed.

Alfred was pulling him through the open hatch on deck and into the belly of the vessel, wherein he beheld a wondrous sight.

Chests split to pour their contents across the wooden floor. Gold coin glowed—perfectly reflecting the small amount of sunlight which touched it—as jewels littered amongst the coin glinted like stars in a night sky.

Alfred was smiling at him, his tail swishing backwards and forwards eagerly in the water. It seems the siren had remembered his love of gold.

Arthur squatted to inspect the pile before him.

He had never seen so much in one place. It was a king’s ransom and then some. Reaching out to scoop a pile of coins in his hand, he felt the weight and inspected its golden sheen as he shifted it within his palm. He could have bought a new ship with this, bribed the local government officials to look the other way, and still had spare change to buy enough rum to drown in for the rest of his life.

A bitter laugh bubbled inside him, but no sound emerged. Here he was being offered everything he had dreamed about, riches beyond his imagination, and he could never enjoy it because he would never step foot on the land again. All this gold and he had no use for it. What a cruel irony.

He tipped his palm and let the coins settle back on the sunken pile. As he did so he noticed a small web of skin had begun to form between his fingers.

He looked at his hand in despair. It seemed now he was in the water whatever change was happening to him had accelerated. He suddenly wondered how much longer he would even remain human. How much of him would be left when he became like Alfred?

It was all too much. He crumpled onto the floor amongst the gold and jewels and drew his knees tightly to his chest, burying his head and curling into himself. He began to shudder.

Hands gently settled on his shoulders and a tail wrapped around him as Alfred held him. A clawed hand reached out to stroke his hair as Alfred rocked him gently.

It made him feel better to be held by Alfred. He needed that comfort now more than ever as he leaned into the embrace.

He heard his companion make a series of whistles and clicks and he fancied Alfred was talking to him. He might not understand what he was saying, but their soothing nature was enough for him.

He was very tired. Not the kind that one felt after an exhausting day of manual chores, but the kind that sat deep within the soul. He snuggled into the comforting warmth of Alfred and fell asleep.

\--------

Shivering, he awoke to find cold water touching his bare skin and realised he was naked. He was still in the same room of the sunken ship—the gold glimmering softly around him—but now he was nestled in a bed of some sort. On closer inspection he could see it was made from various soft material including what used to be a shirt, a straw pillow, sea sponges and kelp. An old sail cloth served as a blanket to cover his nudity.

His clothes sat in a neat pile to his right. Alfred must have undressed him—he flushed at the thought—and built the bed. He wondered where the siren could be.

His hand strayed towards his chest—ah yes, his lucky charm was still there—and he thumbed his medallion, feeling its familiar ridges. He frowned, something felt odd. He brought his hand to his face.

It was now fully webbed with little claws poking out from each fingertip. He held up the other hand to see it was the same. He spread, twisted and turned them as he looked at his new fingers. He was fascinated with the way the webbing would stretch as he splayed his palm and then retract as he closed his fingers.

He gingerly lifted the sail tarp to inspect the rest of him and winced at what he saw. His legs were now knitted together at his knees.

He would never walk again. His feeling of despair returned. He wanted to shout, scream, wail but he had been robbed of that too.

So he settled for pounding a fist against the deck of the sunken ship, crying silently in anguish.

\--------

As time passed—he struggled to count the days when the light of the sun was always muted—the change progressed.

He began losing teeth as they made way for much sharper ones. His claws grew longer and scales started to appear across his skin. His senses had also sharpened and he became aware of some he could not even name or understand.

But it wasn’t just changes to his body, his mind was also being affected.

He had become aware of his thoughts beginning to slip away or mingle with new ones, like the creature’s desire to hunt and kill mingling with his love of chasing ships across the seas and plundering their gold. He was slowly being pulled apart and then stitched back together into something new, anything that didn’t fit being discarded. He shuddered at the thought.

The process was painful. As painful as the tail he was growing.

He fought daily, using any tactic he could think of to hold on to his sense of self, to his past, to his very soul. He had begun reciting key facts about himself as often as he could; his name, who he was, the name of his ship, the names of his crew.

This he did on a good day, when he was lucid. But he also had bad days where his mind was so fractured and he was in so much pain that he couldn’t even form coherent thoughts.

On one particular bad day, he had awoken to find Alfred was not there. He was greatly agitated and instinctively opened his mouth to let out a cry. Surprisingly he made a sound; a loud high pitched tone which reverberated around the wooden walls.

Almost instantly a flash of silvery blue scales rushed in as Alfred quickly scooped him into his arms. The siren twittered a set a clicks and whistles. He felt the sounds meant something, although he couldn’t quite grasp the meaning.

Arthur stopped crying as soon as he was held by his mate. Just Alfred’s presence helped to calm him and ease his pain. He relaxed into his arms. He didn’t like it when Alfred was not there.

\--------

[There is a bit missing here on Arthur’s gradual mental transformation from Captain Arthur Kirkland to Arthur the siren. But here are some notes: it’s a gradual process, he begins to forget details such as his crew and name of his ship at first. Then he begins to forget who he is.

He does not forget the facts he recites daily of himself, but what he does forget is the captain is him, thus to Arthur the siren this becomes a story. A story he likes because he innately senses he is very much like the captain.

He does remember some things, especially his encounters with Alfred, but the details are very fuzzy. Details like where he was, why he was feeding his mate, etc.

He doesn’t forget his name, but it means little to him because he cannot even vocalise it. So what purpose does it serve?]

\--------

Arthur was curled up on his bed, resting, when Alfred woke him with a gentle brush of a hand on his hair.

He made a short series of clicks and instinctively Arthur understood those sounds. They were a language of sorts but they communicated a lot more than just mere concepts. Alfred was concerned and asking how he felt.

He instinctively clicked and whistled back. _Hungry._

A pleased smile pulled at Alfred's lips and then he was swiftly gone.

His mate returned with a large freshly killed fish. The smell of blood filled Arthur’s nostrils and his stomach growled. He eagerly snatched the fish and began to put his new sharpened teeth to good use, as he tore at flesh and crunched bones.

Whilst occupied, he noticed Alfred had moved closer to him and was tentatively touching his tail. He twitched at the contact, but made no move stop him.

Not that he cared, the food more than keeping his attention.

All too soon it was gone, a cloud of blood left in the wake of his feeding frenzy. It felt good to feel something in his stomach.

He was up now, hanging in the water with the occasional flick of his tail to keep him steady. His mate continued to study him, his eyes roaming his body now instead of his hands.

His mate grinned. _Handsome and thirsty for blood._  The words were laced with amusement and admiration.

Arthur felt himself return the toothy smile. He recalled his mate had paid him this compliment before, although the details of the memory were unclear...

His mate laughed at him, breaking him from his thoughts. Alfred brought a hand up to pluck a large piece of bone which had become lodged between his teeth, his tail brushing against Arthur's own. Stirring a new hunger within him.

Alfred laughed again at his expression and with a playful twist and flick of his tail, he was gone. Arthur grinned and pursued his mate. He saw the flash of a silvery fin as Alfred swan out of the hatch and immediately followed, but paused near the exit.

He had not been out of the ship since he had been here—where had he been before?—and so coming out of his cosy nest was like a shock to his system. His senses worked overtime with all the new stimuli the outside offered. He hesitantly rose from the hatch, his interest in Alfred momentarily forgotten as he took in his new surroundings.

He could feel the warm and colder currents as they brushed his skin, smell the many different scents surrounding him—many he did not even know—and sense the stir of water as fish swan nearby. A prickle on his skin alerted him to some larger creatures in the vicinity.

He was so distracted, that he failed to notice the large creature sneaking up behind him.

Alfred caught him and swiftly wrapped his tail around his. Arthur gave a surprised squeak and struggled to get away, but Alfred was much stronger than he and held him tightly. Arthur wriggled and twisted until he was facing his mate, looking slightly down on him as Alfred held him by the waist. He showed his displeasure with a scowl on his face.

Alfred smiled brightly at him and kissed his nose.

Arthur blushed, suddenly aware of how close they were.

He relaxed as Alfred’s soft lips met his own briefly before drawing back to trail kisses down his neck. Arthur whistled contentedly, but he wanted more of those lips on his own. Cupping sunkissed cheeks he lent down to draw Alfred into a deeper and longer kiss.

He was happy. This was where he belonged. With his mate. With Alfred.


End file.
